Logs:Looking for Home
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| RL Date: 27 October, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Ghena, Knioth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: G'laer gets lost on the way home. Ghena is charged with helping him sort it out. |
| Where: Knioth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 2, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Freeze-your-butt-off Cold |
| Mentions: Gallania/Mentions, Gheara/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| "This isn't my ledge," G'laer tells his sister from where he lays on his back where he fell the last two feet off Teisyth's neck onto the rock. There's no gushing pool of blood so even though his head smacked, he's probably not dying. He sounds perplexed more than anything else. It was Cerzoth's booming voice with the tickle of furs and strong booze and the warmth that comes with those things that reached for Knioth. « Laghnei says to take care of him! We're away. » which doesn't do a whole lot of explaining so much as place Ghena's much older brother in her care. "This isn't my ledge, right?" He checks, just in case his glazed eyes aren't seeing the world quite right. Teisyth's tang of copper and nuts comes bashfully after, « I've never seen him this bad before. We can't find Oli. » Because she doesn't remember that Oli doesn't live with them anymore, poor thing. She lives in G'laer's scattered world of secrets. « Now is not the best time.» It's probably a good thing that Knioth got plenty of warning, the half dressed bluerider departing with his lifemate just before the faceplanting of Ghena's brother. Ghena herself at least managed to get her shirt back on and is fastening her pants as she strides out to the ledge in a fury. "No this is not your ledge." «Did they make up? He and his squire? » comes the reply from the blue echoing his rider's disjointed thoughts. Those shirt buttons are definitely out of alignment by about two buttons. "Alright ya big oaf." Ghena reaching for her brother's arm in an attempt to help him up and get him indoors, if she's less than gentle it's probably only a reflection of her irritation at once again having another wonderful evening ruined by her brother. Ghena's fury? It means nothing to G'laer. He's not even a little helpful to her attempt to get him up, apparently content to lay just there. One might argue after the picnic, it was his turn to crash a date, but this is hardly where he intended to be. « He an' his what now? » The green might have an answer for her blue brother but she's tripping over that word. « We're lookin' fer our Oli, » does that help clarify things? She hopes it does! If she drags him across the rough stone, with very little care for bumps along the way, well he's not likely to remember right? Granted if he puts up resistance she'll just leave him there to freeze. Knioth makes room for his sister on the ledge, being courteous even if she isn't his favorite company. « Ghena tells me that Oli moved out and that you both have a different ledge now. » Silvery rumbles and marching feet seem to punctuate the words. "Why in the name of the first dragon are you flying in this state?" She wants to know, before giving up and attempting to heave an old quilt atop the brute wherever he lay or doesn't lie. Sadly, physics do not favor Ghena's efforts. G'laer has more than enough stones in weight to make the effort swiftly seem useless, since he really isn't helping at all, only looking at Ghena with a puzzled eye. It's not that he's actively resisting, but it's possible he doesn't really understand what she's trying to do since he seems comfortable enough on the cold cold stone, on the cold cold ledge. He's the only one comfortable though, because Teisyth quickly panics at this news from Knioth. « Oli moved out? Our Oli? » Are they talking about the same one? Hopefully not! The tang of her copper and nuts mindtouch fades and when it comes back it's with an acrid choking smoke. "Oh, right." G'laer stares at the sky a moment, then, "Well, that sucks." It's almost matter-of-factly, except for the little emphasis that brings with it a touch of ... something? Some kind of emotion that isn't readily identified. The quilt isn't thrown off, but nor is there obvious gratitude for it. It's possible he doesn't notice the cold. "I was going home. I guess we got lost," is the explanation he manages for Ghena's last question. "You are lost alright." She sighs, grabbing a quilt and a chair for herself, since he seems intent upon staying out in the cold. "But I don't think it has anything to do with being in the wrong location. What is going on with you G'laer?" Genuine concern making it's first appearance since her frustration with her brother's clearly intended (not but really) plans to interfere with her happy fun times, but well, you know what they say about Karma. Knioth makes room in the warm spot. « We shall seek him in the morning. » The blue rumbles, generously making room on his ledge for the green and crazy people. Rather than answering her question when she returns with the chair, G'laer has been staring at the sky of the cloudless winter night and asks, "Do you ever think about what's up there? What the stars are made of? How they're made? How many there are? I think I could spend a lifetime counting and never know." Then, "Your breath stinks." This must be to Teisyth who's breathing on him to help keep away the chill. "Just snuggle up, then," is the next grumped words. It's rare that G'laer speaks aloud to Teisyth, but it happens, especially when he's out of sorts. And so she does, as carefully as she can. But it seems he heard his sister after all, because now G'laer answers, quite matter of factly. "I'm an asshole and lost the love of my life for it." That's what's going on with him. "Oh, and my mother died." Not Gallania, the mother that raised him. Everyone mourns a loss in different ways. "Doesn't seem much point in wondering about stars, I have enough trouble worrying about things closer to the ground." Tilting her head back to look up, cuddling down into the familiar scent of the quilt. "Almost routine for you isn't it?" Being an asshole, but the words lack any real sting, or weight. Now Ghena is tilting her head to study her sprawled brother and his lifemate. "Did you lose him, or did you just forget to run after him?" At his last words, she frowns, glancing back up at the sky. "I'm sorry, about Gran. Must hurt." "Story of my life." Being an asshole. G'laer probably only regrets it when it bites him in the ass. "I let him go. Stupid, stupid me." The greenrider shakes his head and then shifts a little so he's faced slightly more toward Teisyth than Ghena. "Does," is his candid answer to the last. "Should've told Oli when it happened. Maybe then..." but he doesn't complete the thought. Ghena can't help but laugh just a little. "Yes, you are, and yes it was stupid." She peers down at him now with the strangest smirk. "And yet, you know, it isn't too late to tell him. It isn't too late to try again, if you are willing to swallow your pride and admit that he is so far out of your league it isn't even funny." She sighs, pulling the quilt tighter around her shoulders. "Of course what would I know, the extent of my experience with relationships can usually be attributed to flights or drunk and disorderly conduct." "It is though," G'laer protests with a sigh of his own. "He deserves someone good. Someone who tells him things like that their mother died. What kind of person hides a thing like that from their weyrmate?" The man on the stone, obviously. "I let him go so he could have those things. So he could be happy instead of just pretending. Because I can't pretend to be the man he wants me to be." He's shaking his head and slowly shifting to sit up, looking at his lifemate, not his sister. "We should go home. I remember where now," which means Teisyth does too. "Maybe I don't know a thing, but I would imagine, he would prefer to decide that for himself." She pauses, "But maybe you were afraid of him being the one to say it." She shrugs, standing and grabbing the back of her chair. "Talk to him G'laer. He deserves the truth." That summons a bitter and raucous laugh from G'laer. "The truth, sister, is exactly what he got," is said once he's on his feet. "I gave him an out. He took it." Oliwer chose. Been there, done that. Got the heartache. Then with fumbling hands he's climbing into the straps. It's a practiced motion well-ingrained in muscle memory. This time, he straps himself in before Teisyth is shifting to spread her wings. This time, they'll find the place they must now call home. |
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